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Moving with unnatural speed and fluidity, Eira dodged the bolts from the blasters that came her way. Diving behind some cover as she knew that her body could not continually keep dodging the bolts. She didn't get a good look at the other person, things happening in a blur and the Force having guided her movements more than her mind could keep up with. Eira figured that this was the infiltrator that she had been hunting and the confirmation came from the small talk provided. They could only know about the body if they had killed the person. Holding a dagger in hand, Eira smirked as she thought about her plan of attack.
"That gave me a hint that you were heading towards a place you do not have permission to visit. How about you take your fancy AI tech and leave, while you still breathe." Eira stated in a cold, robotic deep voice. Holding the dagger in her left hand, she pulled her blaster from it's holster in her right hand. "Not sure you are ready for an assassin, so surrendering might be your safest option. Seems you are in far too much of a rush. That second kill was far sloppier." There was an air of disapproval on that second kill, a lack of effort to hide it and showing that there might be some panic in this infiltrator.
Eira then enacted her plan, throwing the dagger in her left hand, it launched away from Amalia and towards the back of the room. The pistol fired directly at the pillar that Amalia was hiding behind, precise strikes to keep Amalia behind that cover. Using the Force, the dagger that was seemingly thrown recklessly in the wrong direction was gripped then guided with the Force to launch into Amalia's side as she hides behind the cover. Force the infiltrator to either pop out of the cover and risk getting shot or getting stabbed by the dagger that curved around the pillar to strike. Eira was pleased with this attack since it was two pronged and demonstrated that hiding was not a successful option against her.
She would be unrelenting and ruthless in taking down this spy.
Location: Shoengen - Brosi Thread Objective: The Battlefield is Constant Chaos Mission Objective: Take out the cargo and logistics ships in the Sith fleet. Allies: N/A Enemies: Darth AnathemousTamsin Starfall
Bella tugged on the yoke, breaking her interceptor hard to port only just before the Sith starfighter (Ronin-3) growing larger within her viewport loosed a salvo of blaster bolts in her direction, shields having allowed the craft to absorb the electro-plasma blasts from her disruptor cannons. The Baroness made a mental note of it. Disruptor blasts of such extreme energy output would have seen a normal starfighter immediately vaporized, telling her everything that she needed: the TIE/vn-derived machines operated by this particular squadron were monsters—advanced composite armor, reinforced shielding, and advanced deflector systems.
The Sith aces flew ghosts wrapped in steel.
“One and Two, be advised that these are not standard TIE/vns.” Bella announced cooly over comms, her voice a velvet edge as she caught sight of one of the enemy craft hooking around in a tight hairpin to pursue her wingmates. The Sith fighter’s turbolasers lit up, hammering into Mirage Two’s heavy assault TIE.
“I’m hit! My shields are out!” Mirage Two shouted.
“Stay on course and focus on picking those buzz droids off of Two’s hull! I’m coming!”
Shifting her vector, Bella maneuvered onto the Sith craft’s (Tamsin Starfall
) six, while setting her targeting computer to paint its signature. A crisp lock-tone chimed then, echoing through her montrals like a tolling bell as she gave the mental command for a concussionmissile to launch, sending the stealth-enhanced warhead streaking through the void toward its mark.
That was when the other Sith starfighter dived onto her six.
Bella yanked the yoke hard, throwing the Aether Fairy into a high-G snap-roll. Darkness pressed at the edges of her vision, a growl catching in her throat as blood rushed from her limbs. At the same time, she activated the SUPER-9 auxiliary boosters, jerking her interceptor laterally to starboard across the void, just as the blaster bolts from the diving Sith starfighter (Darth Anathemous
) cut through empty space.
Immediately after the maneuver, Bella pulled back on the yoke, driving her interceptor around in a tight chandelle—looping sharply starboard and up, curving back toward the two Sith starfighters. Her craft’s silhouette traced an elegant arc against the black, engines singing with equal parts fury and bloodlust!
S3 warhead is designed to engage vehicles and starfighters.
The missile is notably resistant to missile deactivation transmitters, ECM, and point-defense fire (through armor plating, a low-powered energy shield, and the ability to take evasive maneuvers). It has highly aggressive and intelligent tracking, allowing it to reach targets behind obstructions.
Stealth systems allow the missile to evade sensors. Of particular note, engineered taozin treatment allows the missile’s Force signature to “meld” into the background of Force energy that permeates the universe, rather than creating a void.
Bella throws her interceptor into a snap-roll while simultaneously engaging the SUPER-9 auxiliary boosters to starboard, shifting her craft laterally to starboard to avoid the blaster cannon fire from Kaila Irons.
Immediately after the snap-roll and auxiliary thruster activation, Bella pulls a tight chandelle to starboard.
Fiolette stood at the heart of the Rae Sloane, the command bridge dimly lit, painted in crimson hues from tactical overlays and flickering data streams. Outside the thick transparisteel viewport, the void shimmered, disturbed only by gravimetric ripples and bursts of distant weapons fire. The dreadnought ran silent stealth systems fully engaged, heat sinks active, energy profiles suppressed to near-null. No transmissions. No signatures.
Predators didn't howl. They watched.
Each step she took echoed faintly against the polished durasteel decking. The low thrum of the ship's mass driver cannons vibrated through her boots spooled, charged, and awaiting a target. Combat data streamed in from Commonwealth forces in the sector, highlighting engagement zones and vessel clusters. She parsed the readouts without emotion.
The Sith had begun their assault in earnest, crashing into the Confederate line like tidal steel. But not all of the enemy was entangled. Some held back. Some waited.
Fiolette didn't wait. She measured.
A single crimson blip surged through the center of the fray. Larger than most. Aggressive. Unsubtle.
"Carnifex," she murmured, as if tasting the name. Of course it was him. The Dark Lord never waited for an invitation. If anything, he would will the battle to bend to his favor by sheer presence. That was his way. Brutal, inexorable.
Fiolette turned, just a quarter step, the hem of her uniform coat sweeping behind her.
"Darling," she said, voice low, refined, "we'll be close to Brosi soon."
A beat. Her smirk sharpened, all Galidraani steel.
"I can't wait to hear about the horrors you'll unleash."
Her gaze fell upon Taeli Raaf her wife, her equal, her most dangerous weapon. Beautiful, brilliant, devastating. In the low light, her presence eclipsed any star. Fiolette reached for her hand and drew it to her lips, the gesture as deliberate as it was reverent.
Outside, the Rae Sloane drifted forward silent, watchful using Brosi's planetary mass as a partial mask. A warship cloaked not only in tech, but in intent.
They weren't here for the opening blow.
They were here to end the story.
After Action Report: Running silent, stealth mode engaged, lingering near Brosi.
The breath was visible in the artificial atmosphere of the command bridge as it passed his masked lips. Held to a rhythm without melody, the breaths - caustic, cool - as they were, had emerged out from him in steady repetitions, as he resisted the body's natural inclination to shiver. The rest of the crew were not so lucky - quiet, as they were - naught but whispered breaths passed between them, and the shuffling of feet, as crew went about their tasks upon a vessel held steady.
Red eyes were closed away from the world, sat upon the command throne, the armour he wore was hardly conducive to warmth, metal plate and steel, forged in great flames as they likely were - ice to the touch now, his arms folded between his chest. Yet, he was silent, silent all but the breaths that necessity had him fill his lungs, and flow across his veins.
War had come to the Caldera, as he had said it would. He was on the frontlines, as he said he would.
Yet, the quietude of the quotidian night continued on, even as distant blaring klaxons and the flicker of turbolasers shot past was enough indication that beyond the periphery of the empty space that lay before them...
...War was near.
Yet, most unlike the heir of Darth Marr, the scion of the Lord of Duty, who had so many millennia ago been the defender of the Caldera, famed, beloved, for throwing back the Jedi and Republic of days bygone - the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar was quiet. Dark, inky, invisible tendrils flowed out across the battlefield, as his breath grew ragged with the greater distances they travelled, designed to empower those of familiar persuasion, and horrify those of his foes.
Yet, used in this manner, extended his sight to see all.
And what his eyes unseen saw, realised the puzzle once unmade, slowly coming together. The Imperials had called the Sith bluff, the asteroid field was meant to have hidden the Sith fleet - but, now it merely acted as cover, as the Imperials probed its edges, and Sith warships flew out to reply. Yet, even as the Imperials knew where the general location of the armada was...
...It did not mean they saw all of it.
Hidden both behind the rest of the Sith fleets, and the asteroid fields, powered down for all but the lifesupport systems, the Tsis'Kaar fleet lay in wait.
It had not been long since his encounter with the Jedi in the Maw, when they had so annoyingly found a way to slip past his forward guns, to unveil themselves behind him, catching him within a pincer that disrupted his grand victory in the making. Darth Carnifex, Rowyna Galeway, Fiolette Yvarro, and Elmindra Xitaar, would challenge their enemies in front.
He would destroy whatever would interrupt their grand enterprise.
And soon, his fleet would join them in nailing the final coffin of this Imperial invasion.
He felt the stir in the force, the tremor that alerted that the winds of battle were changing.
"Prepare all systems, our battle is soon to begin." He whispered a ghostly echo, one picked up by the crew most near, and spread along, as far beyond the confines of the great colossus that was the ancient Grand Battlecruiser of the One Sith, other vessels picked up the call.
1. Malum has his fleet sit far behind the asteroid fleet and other Sith fleets with all systems turned off, other than the life support, awaiting in ambush for an Imperial trap he suspects is coming.
That's all she saw when she listened to the Twi'lek. The woman was lost, floundering, and hunting her own kind for masters who didn't enjoy her existence. What happened to her that made her willing to do this?
Delsin Shaw
moved like a bolt of lightning, slipping through the narrow gap in her telekinetic storm — just as she knew he would. Quinn allowed herself a quick smile.
Then the Twi'lek proved she was more than an Imperial pawn. With one brutal motion, she hurled Delsin toward the window.
Glass shattered.
Quinn's breath caught as his silhouette disappeared over the edge. She reached for him through the Force, fingers clawing for the connection — but she was too slow.
Gone.
A spike of panic burned through her chest. She surged toward the window, ignoring the stunned Twi'lek, just to see if he'd survived.
Far below, movement, it was Delsin. Alive.
Relief broke through in a sharp exhale. Someone else ( Bastard
) was looking up at her — familiar, but she shoved the thought aside. Only one thing mattered.
< Take what you need from me and survive — I won't forgive you if you don't. >
Before she could turn and begin her conversation again with the Twi'lek, a buzz alerted in her ear. She paused and touched the earring on her ear for a moment. The directive was sent quickly to Arbiter
, ordering that reinforcements land with the other DeathDrop units. (Jacen Breska
)
The rest was in Arbiter's hands.
Quinn looked over her shoulder, seeing the woman. Her words lingered on Quinn's mind. The blind loyalty she had for this Empress, who would rather hide in the ivory towers of her Empire instead of fighting wars with her people.
"A leader inspires through action, not commands from an ivory tower," Quinn said, heels tapping against the hard floor.
"Your Empress sends you to die for her dreams while she's never faced the war she wages. My Empire endures because every citizen serves — those who can fight, do; those who can't, still have a place."
She stopped a few feet away, gaze sharp. "You bleed for someone who will never thank you. And you call us heartless."
Quinn extended her hand, her stance calm but coiled, ready. "Let me show you how a true Empress rewards loyalty — how she cares for her people and brings them home."
Her voice lowered, coaxing. "You don't have to be a pawn in a pretender's game. Help me build a future where we don't have to kill each other."
She extended her hand, but remained prepared to defend herself.
As much as Quinn wanted to believe she could get through to the Inquisitor, she could see how deep the façade of loyalty cut.
It was a marvelous engine of war, of that there was no denying. Few things drew the Once Sephi’s eye like engines of wanton annihilation, perpetuators of suffering and obliteration. Sliding her way from the war engines rooftop, the landed upon the vessels floor with a thud. Sauntering her way into the command center proper and taking a good look over what Helix
had been capable of assembling here today, the Mechanoid ran a tight ship - another fact to appreciate, and if nothing else today would be a wonderful observation on his capabilities. There was always another promotion possible…
With clawed hands clasped behind her back, she stepped forward to stand beside the colony’s form. Giving a slow nod as he prattled on about the beauty of his creation. It was good to enable the ego of monsters, after all.
“An impressive tool indeed. Flexibility is a grand asset - especially as the situation in the Galactic south develops.”
It would certainly be a quaint prospect to see just how capable this massive thing would be a pacifying some of the unruly savages on its own - or at least, see how much the mighty weapons platform could even leave standing. A humorless laugh followed, while the cultural significance may have been lost on Helix
, the cultural significance had become Lirka rather scorned instead.
“The lords of the Sith are many things, and certainly wasteful is among them. A million factories, but to even let one fall would be to invite weakness in the eyes of our enemies. So, let them blunt themselves against this mighty engine.”
An exaggerated bow, and a wave of her hand.
“It is your show, War Marshal. Consider me but the humble observer of your bloody field test - perhaps, if all goes well, I shall put in a good word with the Powers-That-Be for you.”
Time to dangle the metaphorical carrot on the metaphorical stick.
FLEET ADMIRAL VORIN ZONILL
MIN COLLATERAL STAR
OBJECTIVE III: THE BATTLEFIELD IS CONSTANT CHAOS
Admiral Zonill’s hyperspace jump ended as suddenly as it began.
Admiral Squesha’s Interdictor had done its job quite well, as the fleet settled back into real space just outside the asteroid field. For a moment, Zonill found himself rather disoriented before coming back to his senses. He ordered an immediate status report of the situation.
“Sir”, Captain Sellferr replied, “it appears we’ve exited hyperspace just outside the asteroid field.”
“I see. The maneuver was a success, then?”
“It would appear so, sir”.
“Excellent. Scramble fighter bays 4-34. I want an immediate Marg Sabl while we still have the element of surprise. Have-”
“Wait sir, I’m getting more unusual readings”, Sellferr noted as he once again interrupted Admiral Zonill. “They’re coming from…wait, this can’t be right…dead ahead!”
“What?”, Zonill asked confusedly. That couldn’t be possible, for the Sith Fleet had taken position within the asteroid field. Zonill’s reconnaissance flight had confirmed as much.
Unless…
“They have a reserve fleet, don’t they?”, Zonill said with annoyance.
“It’s quite possible, sir”, Sellferr replied as he continued to gauge the readings on his view screen.
So much for any ambush.
But the question still remained: how had they evaded detection for so long? Zonill could think of three scenarios:
A: They had used cloaking technology to hide their ships. Zonill thought this unlikely due to the expense of outfitting such large and complex ships with cloaking technology.
B: The Sith had played some sort of mind trick on Zonill and his fleet. Possible, but equally unlikely as the Sith would have to have prior knowledge of Zonill’s fleet composition and crew layout. As powerful as they were, he doubted that they could control hundreds of thousands of minds at once.
C: The Sith Fleet had powered their ships down, removing any source of electronic emissions that they would otherwise be brimming with. This made the most sense to Zonill, as the only reason his fleet had detected anything was because he must be in close proximity to them. Of course, if that were the case, it would take them some time to power up their ships for combat…
“I understood. Your orders still stand. Launch fighter bays 4 through 34 and any remaining support bays. I want Ion Batteries 1 through 42 to fire at will. If there’s anything out there, the Ion Batteries will reveal them.”
"But sir", Sellferr protested, "we don't have any targeting data. We might as well be firing blind!"
"You have a good point, Captain", Zonill conceded, "but we cannot afford to waste any time. If we are aware of a possible Sith Fleet, then I can assure you that they are most assuredly aware of us. Still, they'll need some time to power up their weapons and shields. I'd rather not waste time giving them the initiative if we can strike first. With the amount of firepower this ship can put out, we're bound to hit something."
“I understand, sir. Orders acknowledged and received", replied Sellferr as he relayed them throughout the rest of the ship.
“How’s the reconnaissance squadron doing?”, Zonill asked Sellferr.
“Not great, sir. Squadron 2 is already down to half strength, while Squadrons 1 and 3 have lost about a third of their available fighters.”
“I see. Have the surviving fighters fall back to Admiral Squesha
's position. They’ll perform far better supported by capital ships. As for the rest of our fleet, I want the CR125 Corvettes and the Nebulon Fire to take up defensive positions around the rear of the Collateral Star. The Vilifiers will hold their positions on the flanks.”
“Very good sir”, Sellferr once again replied as he relayed the rest of the orders.
Hundreds of starfighters and support craft began streaming out of the Collateral Star as the vessel began opening up with its ion batteries, looking for enemy targets to disable. Despite the urgency of the situation, Zonill felt strangely at ease, almost as if someone was artificially boosting his confidence. It was a pleasant feeling, to be sure, and it gave Zonill a much needed confidence boost.
After all, with the might of his fleet to back him up, with exactly did he have to fear?
Admiral Vorin Zonill's Fleet comes out of hyperspace near Brosi. Admiral Zonill begins sending support craft to the surface of Brosi to assist Imperial forces. Some ships successfully land on the planet, untill a planetary shield activates, preventing the admiral from sending any additional ships planet side.
Admiral Zonill orders a sensor scan of the surrounding area, looking for Sith ships.
Admiral Zonill launches three squadrons of STX-TIEs toward the nearby asteroid field, hunting for signs of the Sith Fleet.
Contact! The Sith Fleet is located inside the asteroid field. The three squadrons of STX-TIEs in the asteroid field move in to engage.
Admiral Zonill is contacted by Admiral Squesha. Admiral Squesha proposes that Zonill's Fleet makes a short hyperspace jump away. Admiral Squesha will then use her Interdictor cruiser to pull Admiral Zonill's Fleet outside of hyperspace, right behind the asteroid field.
Admiral Zonill agrees to do so, and makes the jump to hyperspace.
Success! Admiral Zonill has successfully come out of hyperspace outside the asteroid field.
But wait! Captail Sellferr detects a number of unusual readings, though he cannot determine their exact number or what they are.
Admiral Zonill orders the Collateral Star to launch all starfighters and support craft. He also orders the Collateral Stars ion batteries to open fire, though they are firing essentially blindly.
Zonill also orders the rest of his fleet to take defensive positions around the Collateral Star, and for the reconnaissance flight of STX-TIEs to take positions around Admiral Squesha
's Fleet.
As the voidspike came toward him, his stance squared and both gauntlets were braced before his body, anticipating the move. The impact thundered against the plating of his obsidian armor, causing a deep rattle through his arms, shoulders, and all the way down his spine. It jarred his bones and vibrated through his skull like a bell.
The ceremonial dagger was ripped from his grasp, landing several paces away.
Dark adrenaline pulsed through his icy veins, burning away all the frost that crystallized in his chest. His connection with the Force shattered, but he would not mourn its loss. Clarity filled that void, as from the recesses of his mind, Soah’s pain surfaced. The sting from the strike that landed upon her became an echo searing in his own gut, igniting something feral. A flame. It was an ancient and predatory hunger, untamed, and certainly far older than the Sith doctrine.
More armor plating began to crack beneath his warform. He launched himself backwards in a feigned retreat, allowing his lead foot to calculate a well timed bounce. It was also a more strategic move, hoping to keep him visible to their foe, though there was no way to fully anticipate his apprentice’s next move, even after all the time he’d spent around her the past year.
The rage surged from deep inside his core was fueled by the image of the Felacatian flashing in his mind. It was strange.. an intertwining mixture of guilt and wrath churning within. Gloom that swelled just beneath the exterior began to manifest.
And then, under that pale skin, a transformation began roaring to life. Agony shot through every fiber of his being, and so a furious shout tore from his lips within the helm. A decision was made, surrendering completely to this change. Bones began to stretch and shift, body morphing, and wings would erupt next, tearing destructively through the armor.
More pieces of his armor splintered into shards.
Thick waves of black fur with tendrils of white rippled across his body. The beast within, was ready to break free. Once humanoid features twisted, ears rising tall, pointed, twitching in anticipation. Hands morphed into claws; nails became talons.
Kasir's eyes blazed blood red, mirroring the cruelty that basked in his soul. Rows of fangs, like daggers, glinted from a snarl. A low growl escaped his throat just after. Even those who were untouched by the Force would surely feel the weight of his hatred pressing down on them.
Finally, he dropped onto all fours, as if still stalking his prey from the shadows, now drawing closer to the Imperial figure.
Forward, the Light Division! Charge for the guns! he said. Into the valley of Death drove the six admirals.
"Captain, enemy fleet is descending from the asteroid field," the lieutenant reported from his console.
Galeway's brow twitched, the glint of a predator behind her eyes. "Then they've done the hard part for us." She turned toward the helm and snapped her hand forward. "Clovis Point. Invert the lower flanks pivot the spear on our lead."
Ensign Olynn was already prepping the secure channel. "All ships," Ro ordered, "adjust repulsor headings to these coordinates. Target capital vessels. Let the rocks fall where they will."
The command rippled through the formation.
"All vessels on my mark. Steady. Three... two..."
A pause, the stars held their breath.
"Launch."
With that final word, the fleet surged not with weapons, but with mass. The formation didn't just shift; it shoved.
Repulsor fields engaged across the line, hurling dozens of small- and medium-sized asteroids down like a controlled rockslide. Kinetic chaos hurled into the path of the Confederate fleet below who had, perhaps unknowingly, put themselves in a pit of falling stone.
"Kingsword. Knight. Bring full mass driver batteries to bear."
Ro's voice didn't rise it sharpened."Demeters on the prow. Load ball bearing shells."
These weren't standard payloads. Thirty-six inches across, each one a siege weapon in its own right. Galeway's voice was cold steel. "Half load."
From the gunnery decks of the Kimbrells came the response. "Shells loaded. Variant Sigma-Two confirmed, collapsium, baradium, and shrapnel package. Half load."
Eight Demeter shells, four per ship, locked in. The remaining barrels prepped behind them.
"Half-load Persephones. Plasma variant. Lock onto the lead attack vessel."
Targeting solutions fed through the Helion Data Core Matrix, compiled and refined with chilling precision. Tactical officers and fire control teams coordinated through tight-loop command relays.
Galeway smiled barely. She stood behind the tactical screen, eyes fixed on the Clovis formation now firmly angled downward like a blade aimed at the Confederate throat. Above, the Sith watched from their lofty perch. But below, the Confederate fleet was already committed falling into range, into ruin.
Red would arc above the main formation positioned like the leeward side of an island, shielding from expected winds. Gold took the opposite approach, braving the windward side, bearing the brunt of what came first.
And at the center of it all, bearing the point of the spear.
Valiant.
To her right, Veracity. Alongside them, the daggers toward the outer edges of the formation, whilst Fortans and Muhktiars on either side fanning outward like wings drawn tight, prepared to strike. The Daggers remained even-keel, interlocked with their fellows, waiting on fire control.
Hands at her back as she paced, Ro stood behind the tactical screen, whilst Commander Joran offered up solutions. "Captain, permission to have Daggers acquire targeting solutions for enemy star destroyer?"
"Granted," she acknowledged, while Olynn maintained the opened, secure channel, "Dauntless coordinate with Drauger and Diomedea, for overlapping telemetry. Direwolf, begin verifying your targeting solution, consider EM displacement, heat signatures and armor on target." A moment lingered as she looked at the ships on the tactical screen, "Dreadfast, continue initializing, track primary Imperial-One."
The Decisive's commander responded, "passive lock achieved, Captain Galeway. Transitioning to active pulse." The other Dagger ships called in, confirming their work and where they were in acquiring targeting solutions.
Ro nodded at the updates as they came in, her voice low and even. "Maintain fire discipline. I want staggered impacts when the command is given, utilize Voidbreaker IIs for initial salvo. We're not rattling sabers, we're punching holes."
From her vantage the Dagger group adjusted position slightly. Their cannons manuevering into place. "Cycle projectiles, wait until shields are down or hull advantage."
"Captain Galeway to Mukhtiars, prepare screening full flak once contact is made." Her voice lingered just a moment, "Galeway to Fearless and Formidable, full SIGNIT sweep, low then high band sweeps. I want continued feed back sent to the Veracity. Veracity, continue to feed information to Sith ships on encrypted channels."
The Commonwealth did not bring titans.
They brought precision. Intent. Teeth.
And now, they waited for the rocks to fall.
Fleet shifts from V formation to Clovis.
Repulsed small to medium sized asteroids (rocks) roughly a dozen (12) onto the path of Squesha
's fleet.
Kimbrells are targeting the lead attack carrier/vessel of Squesha's fleet.
Daggers are acquiring targeting solutions to Squesha's Imperial-I Star Destroyer
Wolfpack Red & Gold are staggered in clovis formations above and below the main formation, ready for defensive screening.
Mukhtiars are also prepped for defensive screening.
DCV Veracity continues to feed Elmindra Xitaar
with data, and data is also supplemented to Veracity by DCV Fearless and DCV Formidable.
Her head was spinning but she still felt like, for the briefest of moments, someone else had been in the room with them. She hadn't seen them, hadn't felt them, had been completely oblivious to their presence. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe that was the ringing in her ears, the spinning in her head, and nothing more. Illusion of reality. Probably just a figment of her mental reality created by the jostling of her brain.
But the woman that was standing before her was not. She was real. Wrong, but real.
"Leadership is not a one size fits all dress," she said, looking up at Quinn, her eyes staring deeply into the Echani woman's. "She's not a tyrant, and we aren't blind. Our loyalty is to an idea represented by the Empress, driven by her and a council of others."
But still, there was some truth in what Quinn said. How she spoke of a better galaxy. She could feel that the woman was sincere about wanting to establish something different through herself. Somehow, she understood it wasn't through the current Emperor. Was she plotting the downfall of her adoptive father? The same person that she'd only just defended with anger moments before. That didn't make sense, at least not to her, but it could be true. Sith were notorious for stabbing each other in the back. Perhaps she saw the efforts of her Emperor as not being enough? Or perhaps there was some element to him that just wasn't conducive to a true Empire? So many questions ran through her mind.
The hand appeared a genuine offer. Was she offering her a different future? The only people that had ever offered her anything more than abuse was the Confederation itself. Why would she help her? Her eyes drifted to the hand as it was offered. Should she take it? It took some time, but she eventually reached out her own hand and clasped it, allowing Quinn to help her back to her feet.
"Thank you."
She continued to stare at the woman in front of her. There was a part of her that wanted to accept what she said just because she was there with her. Being willing to say those things to someone in person was meaningful, even compelling. The desire to be cared for by someone else, to be something more than just getting to let her frustrations and hate out in a guided manner, was definitely there, but she didn't quite have that level of trust with Quinn, yet. She saw too much connection to her adoptive family, to the Sith menace that threatened the galaxy and not a form of Sith that could lead without constant chaos and destruction.
"I can't… yet."
Those words were relatively quiet, and spoken just as she released Quinn's hand, and opened up in the Force to unleash a blast of energy meant to throw Quinn away from her, back towards the window from which she'd approached, though hopefully not through it. Then she turned and ran towards the nearest wall, aiming to phase through it and out of the room, seeing as she'd closed the door earlier.
She couldn't join Quinn yet. Though she seemed sincere, there was too much at stake, and she didn't know her well enough to fully trust her vision over the one she had seen from the Empress. Perhaps that would change in the future, she didn't know, but for now she still had the mission of obtaining the data within the tower, and she really didn't want to permanently harm Quinn.
The Great and powerful Levithan raced forward. One of the multiplies stopped and turned around to the sounds of Air support coming in. Already firing from the distance their weaponry. Seeking to thin the horde of Sithspawn and creatures that were advancing onto the position of the troopers. They were at a range in which would be difficult to reach. He did not have to wait. Another came to him. Charging from where it had been. Using one of his own as a springboard, sent one of the Multiples up into the air. The massive beast cast a shadow that blot out the sun from troops below him. The leviathan that was Xorvyrnog was up in the air. Swiping at a passing TIE varient. His claws rending through the solar wings sending it tumbling. A roar came from its mouth as did Purple Flames that spewed across the skies. Force Flames that burned another that swept through in an attempt of a bombing run. And finally landing hard upon a Bomber. Weight alone bringing it down to the ground into a crash.
The version of Xorvyrnog that had been used as a spring board also joined the fray. A roar that could shatter ear drums, break transparisteel from volume alone roared across the way. Soldiers closer would feel their bones and organs vibrate from the frequency, their bodies nearly vibrating themselves into a puddle of flesh and muscle. How disastrous it was that the same pilots could also suffer the same fate. Dropping out of the sky with their mind being turned to mush from sound alone.
The last two of Xorvyrnog had reached the Shield Generator. Closing the distance. Not to climb upon it, but moving to either side. Both took deep breaths. Deeply inhaling the air around them. Some of the Sith Spawn died. As their energy, and force connection was ripped from them. Transferred to the beast that was Darth Carnifex's personal companion and pet. Turned into a fury of energy that was sent over the top. Purple breath of Force Fire projected at the soldiers atop the Shield generator attempting to get in. Any left on the top, would be turned into particles of the force. Burned into ash by the licking flames of the Force. That was, unless some were able to make it inside and avoid such a fate.
I heard the roars of my little brother off in the distance. Its roar and frequency was powerful and impressive. Rivaling that even of my own. However, I could tell that it was done through the force. Yet, I had my own problems to face. Arcing through the air, I could see Artillery being fired. Some already landing to destroy and take out the Sith Spawn that would be near the base of the Shield Generator. I had to put a stop to that.
My body lowered onto all fours. Galloping across the distance towards the Confederate forces. Specifically, their artillery. Their tanks and weapons would severely harm chances of protecting the Shield Generator. While I could withstand much in the way of weaponry, a Tank gun would hardly pinch, it would severely dwindle the numbers of my forces, and allow the other vessels in the sky to rain down hellfire upon the units of the Sith Order. The ground shuddered and quaked at my weight galloping across the distance. A speed that was nearly impossible. But a creature of my size, a galop would cross mountain ranges in minutes. My speed would cross City-states in seconds. Reaching the artillery was no problem.
The first section that had set up was already directing fire at me. Seeing as now I was the new threat. Blaster bolts caused nothing against my hide. Tanks fired what they could, but were squished under my weight. Even exploding as it compressed the fuel cells within. A clawed hand reached out and grabbed the Artillery piece within my hand. Ripping it from the ground and throwing it into the Confederate forces. That was, before I decided to get rid of the ants at my feet.
Lowering my maw, I unleashed a torrent of Flame. Conjured by the force in its power. The flames became a wave of licking tongues that traveled across the ground. Heat that would sear smaller men within their armor. A heat that could melt the armor of Tanks not strong enough to withstand such a blast. Letting the torrent continue to spread as I did my best to wipe out the forces that would be the artillery taking aim at my little brother and his forces.
I could hear the voice of Quinn interject into my mind. It was quick but just enough. She wanted me to draw power to survive even from this distance. While I had handled it so far, I wasn’t going to rip anything from her. For fear of making her lose concentration or draw power from what she needed to face the Inquisitor. Even then, the rage in my heart for so easily being thrown out of the window had sent me enough. I would be fine for now. Leaving the connection between us silent at the moment. More focused on the threat that had shown itself before me.
Even from here, I could tell that the man was Echani of some form. Yet the way he carried himself, the way he spoke was low and almost unamused. The sly smile hidden by the mask upon my face as it peered at him.
He spoke of his blade being meaningless. Which I could see. Likely stolen it from after a kill, or used it well before he had become either an Imperial Knight or an Inquisitor. However, the words of asking the bewitchment just made me shake my head. I had been ready to open my mouth. To give him a reply before his hands raised to me. Debris thrown about me just as I had done to the Twi’lek a moment ago. Using the surroundings to gauge how well someone could fight or get out of a situation.
I stood in the debris for a moment, before pushing my way back with a leap. My hand outstretched and thrust forward. Sending all of this debris directly into his direction. However, as it flew through the air, I charged them. Lightning ruptured through my fingertips and laced between the particles in the air. The Red arcs of energy and the debris forming an impromptu Electrofied Net directed at the man. “Everyone thinks I am just some fething pet. The hell is this?”
Muttering the words to myself before I threw out an answer.
“I chose my path brother, willingly. Can you say the same?”
He didn't linger and got straight to work. As the system processed the scan, Braze subtly shifted his posture, angling his body sideways in a casual manner as he leaned over the console. From the camera's perspective above, he would simply look like a technician taking notes or performing a multi-step calibration routine. Nothing unusual. Nothing that required a second glance. But in the space between his body and the terminal, a small panel of his tool kit clicked open from the large buckle of his uniform belt.
Braze removed the damaged mouse droid he flagged earlier from the maintenance bay that he had been working on. He opened the casing and revealed its logic board, setting the droid in his lap as he worked. Upon exposing the mouse droid's logic core , its internals were cramped and outdated, standard for a utility unit, but still modular enough to work with. He removed the stock memory core, lifting it free with a twist of his wrist. The old one was wiped, low-capacity, and barely supported behavioral learning.
From his kit, he produced a new unit that was compact, hand-tuned, and lined with small etchings along the sides. A custom memory core, modified to accept heuristic upgrades and layered command pathways. He seated the new core into the mount and locked it in place.
Then came the Processor Pendant, a flat crystalline chip, designed to initialize directives without leaving permanent software flags. It contained memory files, recognition protocols, and a rewritten directive stack. All instructions were stored internally, and the pendant would automatically reinstall the memory files if the droid was wiped.
Its new memory stack included:
Recognition of Braze as primary handler.
Obedience to covert surveillance commands.
Behavioral mimicry to pass unnoticed.
Routine uplink scheduling and data transfer during ship power cycling.
This was no longer a passive tool anymore, as it was now a little spy that understood what it was for. It knew what to listen for, and it wanted to serve.
Inside the open chassis lay the Covert Compact that was installed with the Deda-net, a sleek, flat module no larger than a compact mirror. It was made into a wireless data parasite tuned to sync with internal code cycling and protocol rotation.
Not just to steal one set of access codes… but to keep stealing them.
The ship's systems exchanged encrypted data constantly, access requests, clearance updates, login handshakes. The Compact was set up to capture wireless data packets as they passed through the air, focusing on the exchange of data between trusted systems. These included terminals accessing subsystems and droids interfacing with secured controls.
It collects session keys and uses them to decrypt the intercepted data inside its own memory. It processed everything locally.
The Compact programming identifies itself as a maintenance routine. Its traffic pattern, signal strength, and ID naming convention match standard diagnostics. Beacon names rotate on a fixed cycle, and any generated logs erase automatically.
To the network, it would appear as routine system chatter.
He slipped the Compact inside, wiring it in, binding the Compact to the droid's systems, making adjustments so it would function as one unit. Every time the droid recharged it would recharge the Compact as well. The mouse droid would resume its role as it gathered network credentials and forwarded them through a hidden uplink.
The transmission script runs under a process name nearly identical to a real one. Only a lowercase "l" replaces a capital "I."
SysHealth_Check_19 became → SysHeaIth_Check_19
He closed the casing, sealed the screws, and tapped the housing twice with his fingers. The mouse droid chirped softly, its 'voice' unchanged, but its presence different.
It had purpose, and it would remember everything even if it was wiped the old-fashioned way.
"There we go. Let's see if you really work now."
Braze tapped a final key, flagging the mirrored access logs for extraction. The system processed the request without resistance, his technician credentials in place, alongside clearance level verified. Everything looked routine, and that was key.
As the download initialized, he rolled his shoulders slightly and leaned forward, positioning his body to block the terminal from the overhead camera's view.
His left hand moved into his kit and slotted a micro-adapter into the terminal's auxiliary port. The Compact didn't connect directly, not yet. First, it needed a face the system would recognize.
Braze accessed the device table and selected an inactive entry, the mouse droid's unit last registered three shifts ago.
He copied the identifier, imprint, and handshake string, then cloned them into the Compact's onboard buffer. The Compact would now appear to the system as that registered droid, returning from dormancy.
As he finished the spoof, the terminal lighting flickered, a subtle ripple in the energy grid as the power system cycled to reroute flow for a drive diagnostic.
To confirm the stealth, Braze initiated a local echo test. The terminal returned expected values. The Compact's beacon registered under the spoofed ID. Its log entries matched the formatting of standard maintenance telemetry.
TLDR:
Braze turned a damaged mouse droid into a mobile spy. He replaced its memory core with a custom one, installed hidden directives to obey him, and wired in the Covert Compact as a data parasite cloaked behind the droid's trusted ID.
The droid now carries a self-replicating directive stack: if wiped or reset, it will automatically reinstall its memory files and return to mission parameters with no reprogramming needed.
The Compact passively intercepts encrypted access data as it travels wirelessly between ship systems. It decodes that information locally, storing it in memory without triggering alerts. During routine power cycling, it transmits the stolen data using Deda-net, an unrecognized protocol language that appears as harmless static.
Its transmissions are disguised under forged system tags like SysHeaIth_Check_19 , nearly identical to real reports. To the ship, it's just background noise. To Braze, it's a steady stream of credentials , invisible, constant, and clean.
Braze's Actions So Far:
Identified a low-security auxiliary data core
→ Less monitored, perfect for discreet infiltration.
Used a stolen technician access card
→ Gained legitimate clearance to enter and use the terminal.
Accessed the system health dashboard
→ Located the 72-hour log buffer for access credentials.
Downloaded the mirrored access logs
→ Flagged the log files under an innocuous header name.
Shielded his actions from cameras
→ Positioned his body to obscure tool use and unauthorized installations.
Opened up a Mouse Droid previously retrieved a damaged mouse droid from maintenance
→ Pre-marked for repair; would not be missed or monitored closely.
Replaced the droid's memory core
→ Installed a custom core capable of storing covert directives.
Inserted the Processor Pendant
→ Loaded with hidden instructions and the ability to reinstall them if droid's memory is wiped.
Installed the Covert Compact into the droid
→ A data parasite set to harvest encrypted packets from trusted system exchanges.
Merged Compact and droid
→ Ensured seamless integration at a system-behavioral level.
Cloned the droid's device ID into the Compact
→ Allowed the Compact to spoof system identity and remain undetected.
Ran an echo test on the terminal
→ Confirmed the Compact's signals mimic normal system processes.
Set up data exfiltration via Deda-net
→ Sends data using an unknown protocol masked as routine system health pings.
Scheduled transmission during power cycling
→ Uses ship's natural energy fluctuations to hide outbound signals.
Braze would need a few more minutes to ensure everything was working as intended.
He still needed to confirm that the Compact's beacon was masked properly, the spoofed device ID showed no conflicts, and the memory core integration held stable. A quick buffer scan would tell him if it was already capturing data, and whether the transmission script would trigger cleanly on the next power cycle.
He couldn't afford to leave behind a single anomaly. Not on a ship like this~
-- This post is made in accordance with the Bounty Hunter's Code. The target's toggle was active at the time of posting. This post includes a valid license and links directly to the bounty as required by board rules. --
"That gave me a hint that you were heading towards a place you do not have permission to visit. How about you take your fancy AI tech and leave, while you still breathe."
"Tsk..." Amalia grit her teeth, slowly exhaling as she remained behind the support column, her eyes glancing over towards the datapad she had left near the terminal. For now, if she could draw all the attention, whomever it was she was dealing with, might neglect to deal with the datapad and thus the decryption being run by KRONOS.
"Not sure you are ready for an assassin, so surrendering might be your safest option. Seems you are in far too much of a rush. That second kill was far sloppier."
"It was wasn't it?" The woman had to admit that the Assassin wasn't wrong at all, she had been quite surprised by the presence of that last guard though, maybe it was her own hubris paying her back or something. Still, surrendering was no option, because in a situation like this, such an option would only spell certain death, perhaps even worse was the fact that they most likely could find out that the Imperials weren't the only ones who were invested in this invasion.
"Hmm?" For an instant, Amalia was somewhat confused as to why she could suddenly hear shots shattering upon the support column she had been hiding behind, only for the realization to set in, that it was a distraction, a trap. With her instincts kicking in once more, the servant of the Lord of Hunger quickly shifted her focus, aiming her guns towards the incoming dagger, firing at it as she jumped backwards, though she'd lose the cover of the support column, she'd land behind the table...
Gritting her teeth again, she noticed that even if she had managed to jump out of the path of that dagger, it had managed to nick her forearm, where she could feel the heated sensation of skin being sliced cleanly, the tension of her skin pulling and pulsating around the wound, and the warmth of blood welling up in said wound. "Well...fuck."
From her new vantage point, Amalia slid underneath the table, aiming with her guns towards the other end of the table, making sure she would have a clear shot at Eira Dyn
before suddenly unleashing a volley of blasts again. All she needed to do was keep the assassin bussy for now...
As she emerged from the last tendrils of thick, dissipating fog, the macabre spectacle of the reanimated guard became chillingly clear, its every shambling step an incarnation to the undead hunger for flesh.
Behind the Umbaran, his shuttle, once a defiant avatar of blaster fury, spitting molten light against the door and herself, was now a shattered monument to her power. Utterly destroyed, bits and pieces of its flaming wreckage lay scattered across the permacrete roof, some perhaps even having plunged into the war-torn abyss of Shoengen's streets far below.
The reanimated ghoul, lurched closer, its intention clear. But just as swiftly, the Umbaran moved, a blur of decisive action that dispatched her summoned horror. The ghoul fell, lifeless once more, its head separated from its wretched form.
And then, the Umbaran continued his advance, closing the distance once more. The fool.
A slow, private smirk curled the right side of her hidden lips. Without averting her gaze from his approaching form, her hand moved with elegant purpose toward her back. Another surge of Force Lightning, sharp and brutal, erupted from her fingertips, lashing out to strike the control panel of the door. Sparks flew in a frantic shower, an electric flash briefly illuminating the mist, and acrid smoke bellowed from the now utterly ruined panel.
With her crimson saber still aflame in her right hand, announcing its fearsome presence with that signature, hungry growl, she began her own deliberate advance toward the Umbaran. This was no hesitant creep, but the assured, predatory steps that bespoke her true nature, the confident grace for which she was born to.
She was not about to allow him to gain another inch closer to that door than she deemed absolutely necessary.
The precise moment the distance between them felt exquisitely theirs, her voice, like liquid shadow given form, sliced through the now quiescent air.
“You beheaded your own guard, how brutal and uncivilized of you… that's treason,” she purred, the last word stretching, laced with an almost amused disbelief that someone could be so… crude.
She wasted no time. Her lightsaber, a vivid streak of crimson, launched forward in a precise lunge, aimed with deadly accuracy toward his right arm. He had stubbornly refused to arm himself up to this point, presenting her with an advantage she would exploit with clinical efficiency.
The lunge itself was a masterwork of grace and economy ; fluid, natural, devoid of any exaggerated movement. She extended no more than was needed, leaving no vulnerability, and no easy opportunity for a counterattack.
Appearances could be deceiving. Take Velda Nar-Donna
as an example, her beauty masked a skilled Sorceress if everything she had done to this point was any indication. As for Barragh, it wasn't as though the Umbaran had used his hand to sever the head of the Ghoul that his Praetorian Guard had become.
When Force Lightning crackled from her fingertips, galvanizing the atmosphere and fried the control panel behind her he was undeterred.
There may have been annoyance at the idea that his entry was barred, that he could not simply slice the control panel but this didn't project itself across his features.
Footsteps continued. They drew closer to one another.
The Amber in his eyes built again.
To many Barragh appeared a diplomat, someone who was a companion of the Empress but the reality was far more. The Umbaran was her hand, his training advanced and his access vast. Only a few knew that he was more than he appeared to be.
He hadn't responded to her treasonous quip, he had been more interested in how she moved closer to him and held her weapon.
As she made her lunge his right foot would have planted ahead of the left, his Shadowcloak erupting wide as his arms flashed from its interior. A Vibro-arbir held in his right hand, the crimson plasma filament crackling and arcing up into a diagonal parry to catch her lightsaber across its underside and out to parry it off target it and across to her left. In the same breath his left hand, similarly armed with a Vibro-arbir but held in a reverse grip emerged.
Pivoting on his right foot Barragh would swing his left side forward into a lead to cut the distance between them and bring himself well within the reach of her lightsaber where his weapons would be more effective. As his left side swung to the fore he'd fan the Vibro-arbir upwards towards the underside of her right arm just below the elbow where it extended into the forearm hoping to incapacitate it before she could recover...
They were absorbed, mostly, save those that impacted the inner deflector shield and showered the viewscreen in sparks.
"Ronin-1, Blue on Blue!"
"You can take it." Anathemous replied coolly, veering off after the enemy interceptor.
Silence passed between them a moment.
"Understood... my lord." He released a shaky breath and the comms. It was true, he supposed. Ronin-1 had used her lightest weaponry for a reason, even if it shook his friendly craft.
He knew better than to argue with a Sith Lord, lest she backhand him with turbolasers next.
All the while Anathemous watched the enemy pilot pull off a series of High-G maneuvers that were as graceful as they were threatening. Whoever was flying that little pink menace were either packing serious Inertial dampeners or alarmingly comfortable pulling Gs. Experienced no doubt, lethal even without their toys.
These newer Sith pilots would have to step up their game.
"Ronin-3, move to support Ronin-2, you're too broken for this fight."
Taking a glance, she began to see the IFF markers of Darth Malum of House Marr
's fleet, and knew in that moment Ronin squadron had to press every advantage they had.
"You two see our fleet behind the asteroid field? herd the enemy into flak-range, We'll hammer and anvil these Invaders."
"I copy."
Suddenly the confederate TIE circled tight. Fanged-God she's fast, Anathemous thought. With no time to waste, the Sith instinctively pulled her fighter into a starboard roll trying to match what she assumed to be the foe's loop, trying to pull her into a Lag displacement roll so that she may reengage on her tail.
Gritting her teeth as a gravity induced headache began, she soon realized this would be a long fight.
"Ronin-2," she groaned into the comms "Advise the Darr-Itah of our plan. I'll distract their leader."
Finally she switched to an <<open channel>>, hoping that Bella
was listening.
And primed her turbolasers.
<<"That's some toy you got there, pilot, that paint standard issue?">>
The streets stayed a deathly silent, with naught but the faint humming of those strange droids. Leaving his cutting tool behind would have been an issue, with the security gate having been closed on the entrance to save them from the swarm earlier... This time however the metallic bars would raise for Ronhar and his men that came with him, allowing them to enter back within the twisting and damp subway station again.
A portion of the mess had been disposed of in the clinic, looking a little cleaner than before. The sound of a heart monitor could be heard coming from the corner the girl had been in. Exploring a little further to get where they wanted, a white garbed woman would be looking over the child.
"Steady enough breathing..."
She then looks at the monitor, glancing to the troopers who came back inside. Under her mask a smile formed, so far her calculations were right on point.
"Open that cabinet and fetch me a blood extraction kit, it is all labeled... Try not to waste any time."
Her voice sounded familiar, but was that the priority right now was the real question... Vakhari figured not, there was something better on the horizon looming.
"Get three, then take a seat and watch over the girl."
Assuming they did as asked, the white garbed stranger quickly moved about the clinic, getting medical equipment and lights ready before checking to see if they did indeed fetch those kits as asked.
A flick of the Bastard's wrist erected a broad stasis field between the impromptu net flying in closer with its wide reach. The encroaching danger slowed—momentum weakened on contact with the field. It lasted long enough for the Crestfallen to erect a second barrier, this one solid. The debris crashed uselessly against it. The electricity shattered like glass and the Bastard watched the faint glow of his psionic shield flicker away to naught.
Explosions ripped through an adjacent street nearby their battle. The world shook in answer. Another layer of smoke and dust descended on the streets as entire buildings collapsed upon themselves, slaughtering enemy and ally forces alike in the blink of an eye.
He hadn't yet moved his feet.
The Bastard drank in the battlefield, his figure statuesque amid the chaos. He appeared at home there. A reflection of doom sculpted into the likeness of echani beauty.
His very stillness announced his history of war to his opponent.
"I can say quite confidently I wouldn't stand here now if not for my very own choices." He stared across the way at his foe. A cruel smile replaced the stoic mask, his crimson eyes alight with zeal. "I wield the consequences of my sins without fear, warrior. There is no shame in turning one's blade to a cause like the eradication of this debased cult."
The temperature of the air dropped so rapidly, the moisture around Shaw froze into thick, jagged spikes. They spiraled in place. Mist wafted off the fabricated projectiles, then they descended upon the mandalorian from all sides. With a scoop of the Bastard's free hand, a trail of ice spread in a web-like pattern inching across the street for his enemy. It left an uneven patchwork of ice in a wide cone between the two warriors.
Again the Imperial Knight watched and waited. Such tricks wouldn't slow the masked swordsman for much longer. The black sword rose in acceptance, drinking deep of the Bastard's killing lust.
A long pause, the buzz and chitinous chittering swelling to a deafening roar as portions of the smoky war-torn sky were blotted out, then the Professor thought to offer additional encouragement to her student.
You are a strong and promising seedling, Lysander— let the fire feed you as it does a forest. Survive this day, and you will grow beyond measure.
Summoned by the Neti's whispered words, a lifeline in the midst of the approaching horde, the Sith felt her presence in his mind once more. And amid the horrors that surrounded him, he could feel a reassuring hand on his shoulder, steadying the storm of thoughts that constantly threatened to consume him.
Sweat beaded on his brow, trickling down in streams. His hair was slick, the buildup gathering on his eyebrows.
Another tremor shook the ground beneath his feet, a warning of A'Mia's true power. Instinctively, he twisted, droplets stinging his eyes, nearly blinding him. But on the brink of being assaulted, surrendering to temporary blindness simply was not an option.
Then, came another roast, the flamethrower spewing waves of death in violent arcs. The fiery tongues wrapped around the undead, devouring them.
His voice pulsed through the link. <<I'm actually just a mushroom thriving in darkness and terrible decisions. But either way, glad to be part of your ecosystem, Professor.>>
The street was a battlefield, grotesquely painted in death; the ground was littered with corpses, and Sithspawn were pressing from all directions with hunger. Terror unfolded before his dilated pupils. Next, Lysander's Shatterpoint perception suddenly flared back to life, just as it had on Woostri. A pulse rippled through his mind, and clarity seeped in, sharpening his focus.
His gaze snapped toward the towering Mega-Tower, and he spotted another figure in the distance. Her stance made him wary, but he found no immediate danger, no aggression aimed at him. A quick scan confirmed she was indeed a Sith, but not a threat to him.. not today.
Nearby, a squad of soldiers descended from a gunship; a droid also accompanied them. Inhaling sharply, he found lightness in gripping the rig, then advancing once more. Still, he glanced both ways first, as though he were crossing a street, searching for hidden threats.
As his boots carried him deeper into the fray, hesitation began to settle. A knot twisted in his gut at the thought of killing others he had not directly engaged with. He also knew they would not hesitate to strike him down. In this game of survival, he knew he had to match their ruthlessness. And make no mistake, he intended to leave this planet alive.
With a flick of his wrist, he switched his weapon to Plasma Shot mode. The low hum of energy began coursing through it.
Another breath exhaled.
The index digit traced along the trigger, then squeezed. A miniature torpedo was unleashed, like a bottle of wrath, though not aimed directly at the squad, but just behind them, hoping to sever any chance of retreat.
It was also bait, meant to draw out whoever was commanding them.
Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory
